


You Are the One

by plingo_kat



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m very, very happy to see you,” Clu says, and it’s a true statement, absolutely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are the One

“I’m very, very happy to see you,” Clu says, and it’s a true statement, absolutely. He thought that the page he sent would have ensnared Alan-One, if anybody, but this -- the Son of Flynn on his knees -- goes beyond what he expected. Is so very much more satisfying.

His circuits pulse brighter, and he sees Sam’s eyes flick downward before focusing on his face again.

“What did you do to my dad?” A decent attempt at defiance, but Clu can hear the fear underneath, can see the tightening that users can’t control at the corners of eyes and mouths. Strange, that beings with so much power can be so imperfect. Wrong.

CLU remembers perfection. Of a kind, anyway, blinding white pleasure that overloads circuits, blows out systems until a partial reboot is required to function normally, feeling clear and lazy and removed. He remembers flushed skin, sweat, lips red and swollen and the impossible heat that lies underneath a user’s skin.

More than a thousand cycles have passed since Clu has experienced such a thing. He wants to feel it again.

Sam’s eyes widen when Clu steps closer, instinctively leaning backwards. Clu drops down into a crouch in front of him, boots planted firmly on the floor, and grasps Sam’s chin.

“I didn’t do anything to Kevin Flynn,” he says, and it comes out as a low, seductive murmur. “You, on the other hand...”

Sam jerks his head away. Clu can feels the slight rasp of stubble against the material of his gloves, the loss of heat as his fingers lose contact with Sam’s skin.

“Where is he?” Sam demands.

“I’ve no idea,” Clu says, staring at Sam’s neck. Amazing how he didn’t notice before, the thin cut that has split open again with Sam’s violent motion; blood wells up slowly, a startling, vibrant red that turns gleaming black on Clu’s gloves.

Sam stares, open-mouthed, as Clu licks his fingers clean.

“You...” he begins, but trails off, uncertain. Clu smiles.

“I?” he prompts. Sam’s pupils are dilated and he’s leaning the slightest bit forward, knees spread for balance. Clu has enough experience with users to recognize interest, fascination, when he sees it, and the sense to utilize advantages when he has them. “Come on, kiddo,” he coaxes. “You can tell me.” It’s a calculated risk, but he reaches forward to run his hand through Sam’s hair. “You can tell me anything,” he murmurs.

Sam leans into the caress for a second, looking dazed, but then shakes his head.

“You aren’t my dad,” he says. His voice is hard but his eyes are lost.

“I am in every way that matters.” Clu tips Sam’s face up so their gazes lock. “I have all his memories, goals, dreams. I even remember you, kiddo.” Sam doesn’t look convinced. “He loved you so much, you know.” He leans closer. “ _We_ loved you.”

He presses their foreheads together, faces close enough to feel the other’s breath fanning across their lips. Sam swallows hard. Clu can hear the click of his throat, takes that as his sign to move, brushing his lips oh-so-gently over Sam’s, nose ghosting over the skin of Sam’s cheek.

Sam freezes. Before he can pull away, Clu brings them together again. “Just let go,” he whispers. “Pretend, just for a moment...”

But Sam is still stiff, and a second later he pulls back, shaking his head. “No,” he says, eyes wide and voice shaky. “No -- you aren’t -- I can’t--”

“You _can_ ,” snarls Clu, frustrated, and yanks Sam forward for a violent kiss, all teeth and lips and tongue. When they break apart again Sam is panting, lips red and swollen, and Clu feels a surge of satisfaction light his circuits.

There’s a pause, almost enough for Sam to get his head back together, but Clu leans forward to lick at the skin of Sam’s neck, bite the soft flesh behind his ear, and Sam tilts his head back with a moan. Clu presses the advantage, curving a palm along the join of Sam’s suit between his legs, made accessible by the way the he’s positioned with knees spread wide for balance.

Sam’s breath hitches entirely satisfactorily. Clu purrs praise, voice rough and low, and that’s it -- he _feels_ Sam’s surrender, muscles going limp and hips arching into Clu’s hand. The blue circuits on his suit pulse once, then dim.

Clu smiles, eyes bright with triumph, even as Sam whimpers. He has the son of the Creator. Nothing can stop him now.

**Author's Note:**

> The title has nothing to do with anything, but I associate that song with Tron almost as much as "Separate Ways," so yeah. And it kind of fits, so.


End file.
